Page 68 of Carter
Every nightmare I’d had while he was gone—the gunfire in my head, the silence pressing too heavy—melted away with each ragged breath against my ear.
Finally, I eased back just enough to see his face. Dirt streaked across his jaw, a cut above his brow, dried blood on his shoulder. He looked like he’d fought the world and barely made it through.
But his eyes… those eyes were steady, locked on me like I was the only thing that mattered.
“You’re hurt,” I whispered, my hand brushing the blood at his sleeve.
“Just a scratch,” he said, voice rough but steady. “Nothing that keeps me from you.”
The ache in my chest swelled. Tears spilled, hot and unashamed, but I didn’t care. I cupped his face, forcing him to see me even through the blur. “You scared me, Carter. I thought—” My voice cracked. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
His hand covered mine, strong, warm, grounding me. “I told you I’d come back. Nothing—no ambush, no network, no Redwood—nothing will keep me from you.”
The vow in his voice sank deep into my bones.
I pressed my forehead to his, eyes closing, letting his presence wrap around me. For the first time since the warehouse, I breathed without fear.
Behind us, the team’s voices rose and fell, Sable’s curses cutting sharp through the air. The world was still dangerous, still broken. But in that moment, in Carter’s arms, it felt far away.
Because this—this was home.
And I would hold on to it with everything I had.
105
Harper
Inside the cabin, the world finally quieted. The fire still burned low in the hearth, casting shadows across the wood floor, but everything felt different now—less like a prison of waiting, more like a sanctuary because he was here.
Carter set his rifle against the wall, his movements heavy, deliberate. His shoulders sagged, the weight of the battle still clinging to him. But when his eyes found me again, some of that hardness melted.
I crossed the room without thinking, pressing my palms to his chest, needing to feel the steady thud of his heart under my hands. He covered them with his own, rough and warm, holding me there.
“You should rest,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
His mouth tipped into a wry half-smile. “Not until you do.”
The lump in my throat swelled. I shook my head, blinking fast. “I couldn’t sleep while you were gone. Every sound felt like—” My breath hitched. “I thought I’d lose you.”
He pulled me against him, arms wrapping so tight it stolethe air from my lungs. “You’ll never lose me, Harper. Not now, not ever.” His voice was rough, but there was no hesitation. Just truth.
The tears came again, hot against his shirt, but this time they weren’t from fear. They were from relief so sharp it hurt.
I tilted my face up to him, my fingers brushing the dirt and blood at his jaw. His gaze burned into mine, fierce and unrelenting, but softer now too—like the storm had broken just enough to let me in.
And when his mouth found mine, it wasn’t desperate or frantic like before. It was steady, grounding, a kiss that told me more than words ever could.
That he was here. That we were still standing. Thattogetherwasn’t just a vow—it was the only way forward.
I clung to him, letting the kiss deepen, letting it anchor me after the long stretch of fear. For the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself believe we weren’t just surviving.
We were beginning again.
106
Harper
The fire had burned down to glowing embers, filling the cabin with a soft heat that wrapped around us. Carter hadn’t let go of me since the door shut behind the team. His arms were still around me, his breath steady against my hair, like he needed to convince himself I was real.
